


Mirror, Mirror

by Anxiety_Induced_Writing



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Other, Panic Attack, darkipoos scare, mirror, that's blasted manor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 19:36:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17883905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxiety_Induced_Writing/pseuds/Anxiety_Induced_Writing
Summary: It was, lonely at first. I missed Damien. I even missed that detective for a bit. That is, till I realized, no one was going to come back for me anytime soon.





	Mirror, Mirror

It was, lonely at first. I missed Damien. I even missed that detective for a bit. That is, till I realized, no one was going to come back for me anytime soon. I once had a good life, good job, good friends. All until Dames decided to come and take me away, off to some friend's poker game. He said it would be fun, I'd finally get to meet his actor friend, the infamous Colonel, his sister! He spoke with such love and familiarity of them, how was I to know I would die on that trip?

Now I'm here, stuck in this wretched mirror in the manor, watching the door forever, waiting for someone to come find me. Not that I expect that to be soon, it's already been a long time, or at least I think it has. It's hard to tell time. I just wait, wait for something to happen. Wait, is that a shadow at the door? I can't tell. It looks like, a man? I watch the knob turn and the door slowly starts to open. I want to run, or hide. Now that someone is here, I'm not sure what will happen. 

The man, no, it's can't be. The man, thing, that trapped me here, why was it back? Why? It looked at me, no. It's his eyes. It has his eyes. I could see it's grey skin, although it's lips looked black, either it's natural colour or expertly done lipstick, I couldn't tell you. He, it remember, stared at my mirror, could he see me? I glared at him, testing the waters, and he flinched. He could see me. He could see me, trapped in my prison. It was so cold, so lonely. No one came to the manor, not after he died. 

I watch as he steps closer, raising his hand but deciding against the motion. His mouth opens, and he hesitates, but I only lift a brow. "Listen, I'm, I'm sorry for abandoning you, it was, hard for me to come back and face you. I was angry at what Mark had done, I hadn't even given you a second thought. Now that Wilford is back with me, I can't stop thinking of you, but I'm not sure how he would react to you. So I propose this. I have a test, you can leave this place, leave the manor of which four lives have been stolen, souls in places they shouldn't be, and live with us. The products of that man along with others." 

I can't believe my ears, leave this place? Is it even possible? I dare not even dream of it, as I would be with him. Would these others see me? The possibilities racing through my mind, I watch as he placed his hand upon my glass. Reflexively, I place mine on my side, lining up with his. I can feel him, he's colder than human, but still, it's a human warmth. "I don't know whether you would be confined to the mirrors, but I can't live with myself, Damien can't live with ourself, if I left you here alone, unable to see or hear or speak to anyone. It hurts us everyday."

I nod, lick my lips, and speak for the first time in years. "How many others? Why should I trust you? Who is Wilford?" My voice is rough with disuse, and I cough slightly. I try my best to glare at him, pouring all my anger and pain into the look, feeling a slight inch of pride as he flinched back. 

"Quite a few, and I don't know if you could converse with them. Wilford is the product of him." I didn't need to know a name as the man said him with such a venom, I knew he was talking about Mark. "After he shot you and Abe, William was never really the same. The way he thought of death changed, he didn't believe in it. He decided to rename himself, and he just so happened to decide on the name Wilford Warfstache." 

"I suppose I should give you my name now as well, the people know me as Dark. I hope you can forgive me, with the loss of our past bodies, we also lost a few of our memories. So if you don't mind me asking, what is your name?" Dark asked, stepping back slightly, as if I would hurt him. I go to answer, but, I can't remember. What was my name? Does it matter, now that I'm a soul in a mirror? 

"I, I don't know. Dark, I don't remember my name. Damien what's my name?" I realize I'm getting louder as I talk, but the panic is flooding my head. How long have I stayed in this mirror? Long enough to forget my own name? How long ago has it really been? "How long? How long have I been trapped in this hellhole of a manor?" 

Dark steps back even further, something akin to fright in his eyes. My brain keeps going, asking, asking, until it stops. Everything stops and I can think straight. "Call me DA. I'll go."


End file.
